


to me he seems like diamonds to glass

by skitjobbig



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Actor AU, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:46:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23093536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skitjobbig/pseuds/skitjobbig
Summary: ”You’ll be playing my beloved then,” He handed Yuuri the stack of paper, and a giggle went through the room. ”An awfully important role.”**Wherein Yuuri falls head over ass for an actor at the local theatre
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 12
Kudos: 90





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello i like writing one thing every five years before returning to hibernation
> 
> in this au yuuri quits professional skating after graduating but stays in detroit working as a dance teacher, viktor is a stage actor, and they've never heard of each other. i'm marking this as a one-shot for now but i do have a vague plot in mind, though who knows if i'll actually write it!
> 
> title is a quote from pericles by shakespeare

**Phichit:** open reading of pericles by shakespeare on thursday @ the repertory theatre be there or be square

***

Yuuri really had no interest at all in going, nor did he know jack about the play, but worming his way out of this seemed impossible. He had a tendency to isolate himself when new terms were about to start, to perfect choreographies for his classes, but this time it was bad. He only crawled out of his mess of a room to eat and go to the bathroom. Phichit, bless his heart, had taken it upon himself to draw Yuuri out into the real world again; a fruitless endeavour, until now. As much as the prospect of audience participation made Yuuri wish for his own brain to shrivel up and disappear, he found it difficult to put up too much of a fight. It was, after all, considerate of Phichit to go through the effort of finding something for the two of them to do and getting tickets, even after Yuuri had shot down all attempts to get him outside in the past weeks.

”I just don’t _care_ about it,” Yuuri defended himself ”About Shakespeare. Or the play. I can think of better ways to spend a Friday night.”

”Oh, really? Do tell,” Phichit said. Yuuri glanced around the room, trying to come up with something. He could, in fact, not think of better ways to spend a Friday night. Or any night at all for that matter. His evening plans had been something along the lines of watching figure skating highlight reels and having canned soup with crackers for dinner. In the face of _actual_ plans, his own seemed so pathetic Yuuri had to cringe inwardly.

”Alright,” He resigned himself to his fate, ”You win. But I’m not taking any roles,” The caveat seemed to go unnoticed by Phichit who had stopped listening after ”win”, and was glowing with victory.

***

The repertory theatre had a space in the same building as the main City Theatre, though quite small. It only housed a wardrobe, a lobby, a single auditorium and presumably, Yuuri thought, some kind of dressing room for the actors. He felt like someone had poured cement down his throat and let it set in his stomach. At best, he was going to be bored for nearly three hours, and at worst, Phichit was going to volunteer him for a role and he’d humiliate himself in front of a surprisingly sizeable audience. Quite a few people, ranging from college students to pensioners, had found their way to the theatre tonight, apparently. Those people were not who Yuuri noticed first as he walked through the door though.

Because in a small armchair by a fireplace in the lobby was perhaps the most attractive man he’d ever seen. Scratch that, actually, the most attractive person, period. His hair was a shade of silver grey that couldn’t possibly be natural, even though his pale eyelashes and brows matched it. His jawline was looked sharp enough to cut glass, contrasted by the rounded curve of his chin, and one side of his face was lit with the warm light of the fire. What was most striking about him though was the relaxed confidence he exuded. Plonked down, one ankle thrown over the other knee, one hand his lap and the other nursing a cup on the adjacent coffee table and smiling at the red-headed woman he was talking to, he seemed like a beacon of peace, of casual perfection.

Yuuri realised he had stopped functioning for a full five seconds and had to will himself to stop staring at the man before anyone noticed. Phichit was already taking his jacket off, and everyone else in the room were making themselves comfortable, getting coffee from the table of refreshments by a window and chatting aimlessly, taking seats in the two haphazard semi-circles around the man by the fireplace. Phichit made a beeline for two chairs on the opposite side of the fireplace, but still front row, which was much too close to the man for Yuuri’s liking. Still, he took his jacket off and plopped down in the chair Phichit was patting at.

”Welcome, everyone,” The man raised his voice in order to be heard over the murmur of the room, which immediately quieted down. ”To our reading of _Pericles_. We’re very happy you could all make it here tonight. Before we begin, we’re going to do some role assigning.” He patted a stack of manuscripts on the coffee table. ”I will be your Pericles tonight. The ensemble has already been assigned their roles, which are the most line-heavy, but there are lots of other characters to go around! We’ll start with the named ones, yes? Who wants to take on Antiochus?”

Someone behind Yuuri and Phichit spoke up, and her manuscript was passed to her. And so it went on, the man, to whom Yuuri had mentally assigned the name Pericles, announcing names and assuring more hesitating audience members that they were going to do just fine.

”I believe those were all the named roles- Ah, no,” the man put his index finger to his lips ”The role of Thaisa is still up for grabs”

Yuuri didn’t register the hand on his forearm quickly enough to put up a fight before his arm, held up by Phichit, was in the air. Yuuri shot him a look that he hoped would convey something that Yuuri was not afraid to personally reserve a place in the deepest pits of hell for Phichit but was, in retrospect, probably just a funny combination of confusion and fear. Phichit just grinned back, the bastard, and shook Yuuri’s arm as if to make a waving motion. After wishing all the ills in the world on his best friend, Yuuri chanced up a look at the actor in the middle, who had unsurprisingly noticed his volunteering. He’d already picked up a manuscript and was making his way over to Yuuri’s chair.

”You’ll be playing my beloved then,” He handed Yuuri the stack of paper, and a giggle went through the room. ”An awfully important role.”

Yuuri sucked in a breath. His face was turning very, very warm. ” _My beloved_ ”? Who says that? He couldn’t concentrate on the rest of the role assigning, everything was a blur. Phichit gave him a pat on the back and told him _sorry_ and you’ll do great in a hushed voice. Yuuri calmed down a little, bouncing his leg and flipping through the script to figure out precisely how much he was going to embarrass himself over the next two and a half hours.

The first act was a blur. Yuuri stared at the back of the chair in front of him, occasionally tuning in to what was being said, to get even the slightest grip on the storyline. It took an awful lot of effort, though, to focus while Pericles was talking. Hearing his voice felt like someone pouring cold water onto a burn, and he had this musical intonation that Yuuri had never heard anyone speak with before. He also had a slight accent, more noticeable when he spoke longer sentences, that Yuuri couldn’t quite place. Here and there he’d cross and uncross his legs, run his hand through his hair, drum his fingers against his thigh. Sometimes he’d botch a line and laugh at himself before starting it over. It was all disgustingly endearing, and it made it nigh impossible for Yuuri to pick up on anything in the play. After the first few scenes he’d resigned himself to going back and forth between imagining how badly he could fuck his lines up and staring at Pericles.

By the time act two rolled around, Yuuri had not yet had any lines but understood this much: Pericles, the character, was an incredibly eligible, and also royal, bachelor, on the run from another monarch because of… Incest? Yes, Yuuri thought, that seems like Shakespeare. Now, Pericles had washed ashore in the state where Yuuri’s character was princess, and had his heart set on winning Thaisas hand in marriage in a tournament. His stomach flipped when he saw ”Thaisa” in the script. His entire body was so tense it felt like his muscle fibers were going to tear and combust any moment.

One of the ensemble members, an old, strict-looking man with a broad jaw and a shining bald crown of the head, had been given the role of Thaisas father, the king Simonedes. He exchanged lines that Yuuri didn’t hear in a gruff voice with an audience member. He finished up the exchange and shot Yuuri a meaningful look, signalling his cue.

”It pleaseth you-” Yuuri started. His throat was stocked, voice trembling. He took a deep breath, looked at Pericles to find him looking right back and smiling, and turned back to his script. ”It pleaseth you, my royal father, to express my commendations great, whose merit's less.”

Pericles was beaming at him, and from there on out, Yuuri mostly blacked out. Thaisa was introducing the knights in the tournament, Pericles included, and Yuuri read his lines on auto-pilot. For the next scene, a banquet with all the knights, he vaguely registered Renaissance-sounding music coming out of some speakers. He kept mincing his lines between his teeth, not giving a thought to a single word that was being said. He only awoke from his trance when he realised he was going to speak directly to Pericles.

”The king my father, sir, has drunk to you,” Yuuri met Pericles’ eyes again.

”I thank both him and you, and pledge him freely,” He didn’t even glance at the script, didn’t so much as bat an eyelash, as he said his line. He just held Yuuri’s eyes. It felt like the rest of the room disappeared, like they were the only two people there. Yuuri was suddenly much more at ease, relaxing the tiniest bit into his chair.

”And further he desires to know of you, of whence you are, your name and parentage,” Yuuri actually found himself smiling a bit, giving into the rhythm of the meter, letting the it carry him through the line.

”A gentleman of Tyre; my name, Pericles; my education been in arts and arms; who, looking for adventures in the world, was by the rough seas reft of ships and men, and after shipwreck driven upon this shore,” Although he knew for a fact that the man in front of him was not, in fact, the prince of Tyre, Yuuri felt like he was actually getting to know the actor, like he was being told the truth. He looked at his next line and realised the exchange was over, and tensed right back up, turning his head toward Simonedes.

He noticed the stage directions called for two dances toward the end of the scene, the first only for the knights, and the second the knights and ”ladies”. He didn’t think much of it; they’d ignored nearly all previous stage directions. There wasn’t much room to move, as there would be on a regular stage, and Yuuri _thought_ he could rest easy. Until Pericles broke character.

”I think we should dance!” He clapped his hands together and smiled at Yuuri, ”After all, this is the most we get to see of them falling in love,” He explained. Yuuri was suddenly aware of the fact that his hands were awfully sticky with sweat, and then of all the eyes in the room on him. Pericles had walked the short distance to Yuuri’s chair, and was bowing before him, one hand held out.

”May I have this dance?”

Who was Yuuri to refuse an offer like that?

It wasn’t anything advanced at all. Barely a waltz, Pericles’ right hand on Yuuri’s waist, Yuuri’s right hand on Pericles’ shoulder, and their left hands clasped. They rocked back and forth together, Yuuri’s footwork embarrassingly clumsy for a dance teacher, but Pericles didn’t know that. They were close; not quite chest to chest, but close enough for Yuuri to notice Pericles had a few inches on him, and a small part of him preened in delight at the discovery. As they moved around the small amount of space they had, the scene went on, Pericles talking to Simonedes.

And exeunt. The scene was over, along with the dance.

Yuuri was equal parts relieved and reluctant to let go and go back to his seat. Phichit gave him two thumbs up for his trouble. Yuuri spent the next scene mourning the loss of a cool, soft hand in his, of the warm spices that Pericles smelled of. He felt as drained as he did after a full ballet performance, even though he’d only swayed around for a minute or two.

Yuuri regurgitated his remaining lines, solidifying marriage between Thaisa and Pericles, before act two came to and end and they decided to take a short break before going on. Phichit grabbed his shoulder, raving about what a good Thaisa he made. Yuuri allowed himself a smile at the encouragement.

”So, are you gonna shoot your shot?” He asked

”My- my shot?”

”Yeah, with goldilocks over there,” He nodded to where Pericles was standing, talking to his fellow actors, ”I think he’s into you, pulling a move like that.”

Yuuri was outraged at the suggestion. In what universe would someone like that, a god among mortals, be attracted to _him_? He didn’t want to admit this insecurity, though, so he settled on, ”And what makes you think I’m into him?”

Phichit just laughed in his face, ”It’s the wildest of guesses, but you’ve been looking at him like he’s the only thing that matters to you since we stepped through the door. Seriously, I thought looks like that were reserved for when you’re at the altar together.”

Yuuri narrowed his eyes, ”I need a glass of water.”

He made his way over to the table with refreshments, mostly to be able to just _breathe_ and think of something else. He’d barely filled his glass halfway before someone moved up beside him. _God damn it._

Of course it was Pericles, because whatever cosmic entity apparently didn’t want Yuuri to catch a damn break this evening. He was filling his cup with hot water, putting in a bag of Earl Grey. Yuuri filed this away for his quickly expanding mental list of Facts About Hot Actor Guy, before realising he’d filled his glass with so much water it was nearly spilling over. He quickly slammed the pitcher down.

”You’re not a half bad actor, you know. You could be using the blank verse to your advantage a bit more, but you’re pretty good,” Yuuri heard Pericles say. Logically he knew that he was the one being spoken to, but still had to do a double take around him to ascertain that Pericles was not, in fact, praising someone else.

”Oh- Thank you. You’re not bad yourself.” Who says that to a professional actor? Of course he’s not bad, it’s his _job_. Besides, since when did Yuuri know anything about what makes a good actor?

Pericles just laughed, ”I should hope so” He twirled the string of the teabag between his fingers. It took Yuuri great effort to look away from them and, more importantly, _not_ imagining them anywhere on his body, ”I’m supposed to be, after all. What is it you do?”

”I teach dance. Ballet, mostly, but the demand for that is so low that I’m branching out into some other stuff too,” Yuuri was grateful for Pericles’ choice of subject. He could talk about his work for hours, if given the chance.

”Oh! Do you choreograph, too, then? The theatre is looking for choreographers for a couple of productions right now, if you’re interested.” He took the teabag out and took a step closer to Yuuri, who had to look away for a second to recompose himself at the sudden proximity. He caught the sight of Phichit giving him a thumbs up again, and had to stifle a snort.

”I don’t think I know anywhere near enough about drama to make a good choreographer here.” 

”You’re being too modest,” Viktor whipped out a small notebook and a pen from seemingly nowhere, and started writing, ”Shoot me a message if you change your mind. We could meet up and talk, about the performances - that is. Doesn’t have to be anything formal, just- If you wanna grab a coffee. Or something.” If Yuuri didn’t know better, he would’ve thought that Pericles was nervous as he ripped a piece of paper from the notepad and gave it to him.

On it was written a few digits - a phone number - and a name. Viktor Nikiforov. Yuuri just stared. _Is it this easy?_ He realised he’d been silent for a few too many seconds.

”I’ll think it over. Thank you,” He finally managed to squawk out. Victor put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

”My pleasure. I didn’t catch your name, though?”

”I’m Yuuri.”

The break was coming to an end, and they got back to their seats, Viktor with grace and Yuuri with a precariously full glass of water. Yuuri breezed through his remaining lines with much more ease than before, and was able to actually enjoy the rest of the play. Drama had always seemed elitist and inaccessible to him, but this was not that at all. It was horizontal, a level playing field, where everyone was given a voice. 

After the epilogue was over, Yuuri left with the thought that, if nothing else, he’d come back to see more plays and admire Viktor from afar. That seemed fine by him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri goofs up. Phichit is a very good friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter just kind of wrote itself so i guess we're making this happen

Yuuri lost the number.

His steps had been lighter during the walk home from the theatre than on the way there. Viktor had given him a wave goodbye and a smile from where he was standing with his fellow ensemble members while Yuuri left. Such a simple gesture of acknowledgement had left Yuuri dizzy, like a teenager in the throes of puppy love. They’d just barely spoken, and he already had it so bad, just from watching Viktor from a distance. He’d seemed so excited to be there, nailing all his own lines and gently guiding unsure audience members through theirs. God knows Yuuri needed someone gently guiding him through life in general.

He didn’t quite realise how bad it actually was until he got home and went to plug the number into his phone, only to realise the note was nowhere to be found. The very important note with Viktors number on it. The note that the universe just dropped in his lap, as if to say it knows he’s had a rough couple of weeks, he should go out more, specifically with this Hot Stage Actor. Except Yuuri probably shouldn’t think of him as Hot Stage Actor, but rather Potential Coworker or Maybe Potential Friend. Or just Viktor. The point is, he lost the damned note. Nowhere to be found, none of his pockets, lost to the void forever. In his frenzy he considered tracing his steps back to find it, but thought better of it.

Granted, Yuuri wasn’t particularly interested in choreographing for the theatre, so in that sense it wasn’t that bad of a loss. His plan had been to meet Viktor to let the guy make his case, politely turn down the offer, and maybe, hopefully get to know him a little better. But now it would seem to Viktor like Yuuri was some asshole who couldn’t be bothered to send a single text letting him know he really wasn’t interested in the job.

Phichit noticed Yuuri frenetically rummaging around in his pockets, because really, who wouldn’t.

”What’s wrong? Left your phone somewhere?”

”No, I have it right here,” Yuuri even checked the inner pocket of his jacket, fully knowing he never put anything there, just in case ”It’s just. Viktor gave me his number and-”

”Viktor?”

”The actor. Who you were so adamant I ’shoot my shot’ with.” Breast pocket of his shirt? Nope. The weird little pocket inside the larger front pocket of his jeans? Zilch. The note was gone.

”He gave you his _number_?”

”For work! He asked me if I’d be interested in helping the ensemble with some choreography,” Yuuri gave up the fight, shrugging his jacket off and dragging his feet behind him into the living room. ”But it doesn’t matter now, I lost it.” He slumped down on the couch next to Phichit, dropping his face in his hands.

”I didn’t think drama choreography would be your thing,” Phichit said. Yuuri shook his head and sighed. ”Well, if you don’t want the job and you’re not interested in seeing Viktor, which I still don’t believe by the way, what’s the issue?”

”I still have to text him to let him know. Tell him I’ve thought about it but that I wouldn’t be a good fit for them,” Yuuri moaned, ”He’s gonna think I’m such a dick.”

”Language,” Phichit admonished, tapping away at his phone.

”I was hoping for at least a _little_ bit of pity,” Yuuri whined.

”Shush. You don’t need my pity, I’m fixing this for you.”

”You’re doing what now.” The enigmatic nature of Phichit’s statement immediately sent Yuuri’s mind spiralling to worst case scenarios. Was he looking Viktor up on Instagram to message him? Tracking him down through shadier means?

”There!” Phichit broke Yuuri’s train of thought. ”You, my friend, have a first row seat at the premiere of the Repertory Theatre’s next show, in three weeks. You’ll go, talk to Viktor afterward and explain what happened, and Bob’s your uncle.”

Yuuri fully deflated. If he didn’t go, and remedy his fuck-up of losing the number, he’d seem like an ass to Viktor. If he did go, though, he’d be signalling that he wanted to work with the theatre, which he was still on the fence about. The more he thought about it though, the better it seemed. It was a good opportunity. The size of his classes were shrinking, fewer people sought out dancing. And he wouldn’t exactly mind adding this to his resumé. Expanding horizons and all that.

”Thank you,” He smiled at Phichit. ”I’ll go.”

***

Viktor Nikiforov.

Yuuri had typed, deleted, and retyped the words into the Google search bar on his phone more times than he could count since he’d gotten home. He was in bed, supposed to be sleeping considering the late hour, but couldn’t stop staring at his screen. It was weird, right? Looking up someone you’d just met and happened to find attractive? But on the other hand, if he was going to work with the guy, he should probably get to know more about him. But, then again, he could just ask Viktor once they met again. It was weird, definitely. Yuuri put his phone down and turned to his side, trying to will himself to sleep. Definitely weird.

No more than ninety seconds passed before he picked up the phone back up. He wasn’t going to get a wink of sleep if he didn’t do it now. He typed the name again and hit the search button before he could hesitate.

Google certainly didn’t disappoint; an alarming number of search results turned up. The guy had his own _Wikipedia_ page, and numerous news articles with headlines in a script Yuuri didn’t understand popped up. Oh, god.

Apparently, Viktor was a big deal. Not the kind of big deal Yuuri would beat himself up over not knowing about, but a big deal none the less. From what Yuuri gathered, Viktor was an actor in the troupe at the Alexandrinsky Theatre in St. Petersburg, a former child prodigy, and something of a national treasure in Russia. And also known worldwide in theatre circles. The headlines mostly concerned how he’d recently left the theatre and moved to the U.S. for a an undisclosed amount of time and reasons no one knew.

After scrolling through the third page of search results, Yuuri had had his fill. His eyes were stinging from the blue light, and he put his phone down.

_What the hell was Viktor doing in Detroit?_


End file.
